Alone
by Colors of Music
Summary: Jack, orphaned and bullied, has finally reached the end of the line. And there's a secret he's keeping from Bunny; the only person who can save him. Warning: dark themes mentioned. May not be what you expect.
1. Chapter 1

_The characters in here are all human, and this is the second part/AV from my fiction "Voices" Check that out if you wish. **I am also taking requests! Check out my profile for more information!**_

* * *

It was hard… being alone. There was no one to talk to, to laugh with, cry with.

At night, when it was cold and freezing you had to lie alone in bed, cuddling the pillow and curling up under the covers, pretending you were being held by a lover, a parent, a sibling.

When you went to school, people snickered at you under their breath, and if you listened carefully you could hear them whisper among themselves as you passed by in the hallways.

_"Look, it's that _boy._ My mother says he lives like a barbarian because he doesn't have a mother to teach him any manners."_

_"My daddy says it's too bad _he _doesn't have a father. He thinks the boy could use a good beating to set him straight."_

_"Did you hear? People are saying Jack's gay."_

_"Must be because he's all alone, who _knows _what he does with himself at night."_

It really hurt when people associated your sexual preference with your lack of parents. But I've learned to deal with it, push it down and walk away. I keep telling myself "Only four more years… only three more years… Just two more…" and now I'm in my final year of high school with these inconsiderate, harsh telling brats.

Who were they? Thinking they knew what it was like being me. Maybe things would have been different if they'd known, but then again, perhaps they would have laughed at me even more. It wouldn't have happened if only I had kept walking, if only I'd fought back…

If only I'd had parents to keep me inside.

It's always my fault.

But if you told Bunny that, well… let's just say the last person to dare a try ended up in the hospital… that was five months ago, and the kid's still there under a coma. Charges were dropped on lack of evidence, and also considering the only witness is a vegetable.

Bunny's my guardian, even though he's only ten years older than me. He said he knew my parents through his cousins, who were ski enthusiasts. Eventually over time, Bunny became a really good friend of the family, and my inadvertent guardian. I've never seen him as a parent figure though; more as a brother, there to protect me and lead me, but…

"Hey, Bunny, can I talk to you about something?" It was Friday night, December twelfth, and that day at school had been particularly painful, filled with worse sneers and taunts. The only good part was the knowledge that I wouldn't have to see those jerks for another two weeks.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, go ahead mate," he said absentmindedly, hunched over a book about paintings. He was studying to become an art major, and our little apartment was filled with his sketches, oil and chalk paintings. He didn't like to use actual paint unless he was painting for Easter, one of his favorite holidays (though that's not why he's called Bunny).

"Could you look at me for a second?" I snap, and he spins in his chair with a huff, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You have a _reason _for using that tone with me?"

"I asked if I could talk to you, and in my experience, when two people talk, they look at each other." I stood glaring down at him, and took a moment to once again appreciate his features.

He had a good build with finely defined muscles, a really light tan, and narrow, clean-shave face. His nose perked like a button, and his hair was dyed dark white so it almost looked gray, and was feathered, making him look younger rather than older. He even had symbolic tattoos on his upper biceps, and a pert mouth. Absentmindedly I licked my own lips before finally looking into his eyes.

His beautiful, sharp mountain green eyes. So clear, so open, so true. He was the epitome of strength and grace….

Everything _I _wasn't. And it tore at me inside.

"Mate?" came his Australian accent, and… I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him about my troubles. I wanted to preserve his beauty, his innocence I was obscene to even think...

"Never mind," I clipped out, before turning on heel and hurriedly walking to my room, where I slammed shut my door and locked it, before sinking to the ground and bowing my head.

**_You're so weak. You won't even ask for help from the one person who cares most about you._**

"No, he doesn't."

**_He is family._**

"He is a _guardian," _I argue back. "He wouldn't even be here if the title didn't hold him down," I spat out, angry at the truth I believed in.

A knock. "Jack, who are you talking to?" My eyes widen. "Jack?" Another knock.

**_Why don't you tell him, Jacky? I do get so lonely talking to just YOU. _**

"Shut up," I mutter.

"Excuse me?"

"Go away, Bunny! I don't need to talk to you anymore." The knob above my head jiggled a bit as he tried to open the door.

"Jack, we need to talk. I got a call from your principal earlier today. I know what's been happening at school."

**_Ohh, this should be interesting._**

"_Shut up!" _It almost comes out as a shout and the knob jingles a little more urgently.

"Jack-"

"You too, Bunny! I tried talking to you earlier, but you were _obviously _too busy for your buddy Jack, so just go away, alright?"

"Why didn't you tell me earlier those kids were picking on you?"

I choke out a laugh. "What am I in, elementary? I can deal with them, Bunny. I always have," I whisper the last part to myself. There's a moment of silence followed by retreating footsteps and I breathe a sigh of relief. I wait a couple of minutes, during which time the hurt of knowing Bunny didn't care enough to try and get to the bottom of things sunk in. Then, I stood up and took off my hoodie, followed shortly by my shirt, shoes and socks.

Walking away from the door, I go to stand in front my full length mirror, right next to the window, where the light from the moon is the only thing laminating my room, and my reflection in the mirror.

Where Bunny was muscular, tan and clean skinned, I was pale, skinny, and marked.

Scars outlined in a pink ting spelled out words along my arms and stomach: useless, trash, disappointment, orphan, whore. I always knew this to be the truth, and with others who can see it now too (you don't know the things they say behind my back), they _must _be true.

I want to cry. Scream in outrage.

The wooden floor feels like ice beneath my bare feet, but I just stand there. My room is bereft of everything but a bed, mirror and closet. I'm a waste of space; I breathe air that should've been given to someone else who would be meaningful to this world. Instead, I continue to live.

Others say I squander the gift of life given to me, a gift someone else would have been happy to have.

Well, then, why don't I just die and give it to them, I say. I wish I could… But I'm so weak.

Suddenly, the footsteps return and the lock on my door clicks. Heart beating fast, I panic. _Bunny doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know._ The mantra repeats itself in my mind over and over again, before I spring into action, sliding under my bed into the tight space it offers, hiding. _He'll look in the closet first, and while he's distracted I'll slide out and run out the door… _

"Jack, I – " he stops midsentence, realizing I'm not in there, and turns toward the closet. _Now! _

I begin to slide out from under the bed, but I must have been making a lot of noise. Either that or he found out quicker than I expected I wasn't in the closet. Either way, he turned to look at me as I was halfway out from under the bed on my back. My scars open for him to see.

"Oh, Jack," and he reached down to grab me, but I was still in panic mode. I struggled, hitting my legs on the underside of the bed, finally being half dragged, half carried out. I tried to run, but he held my arms in an iron grasp. "Hold still, hold still! Dammit, Jack…" as he got a good look at me, I could see tears begin to well up inside his eyes, and I stood there, frozen in silence. "Oh, God, Jack… what have I done?"

I couldn't say a thing. _You? No, not you, stop crying, please! It's not your fault! I'm the one to blame. I screwed up, it's my fault. Please, stop crying. Please, please, Bunny. _"P-please, stop," I whispered, my lip trembling.

"Jack?"

I shook my head, sniffed and tried to hold back the silver tears blurring my vision. "N-not you… me." Suddenly, I hit his stomach with my foot, pushing us apart, and he landed on the ground with a surprised gasp. I didn't give him time to recover as I raced toward the door, sliding around the corner and sprinting down the hallway to the front door. _He knows. He knows. He knows._

"JACK!" _Oh God, he's right behind me! _Everything seemed to slow down as my adrenaline kicked in. I ripped the front door open after annihilating the locks and raced down the hallway, down the stairs to the bottom floor, and out into the street before even a minute had passed. I could hear him tramping after me, calling me.

"Stop it, stop! Go away, leave me ALONE!" I shouted the last word, pumping my arms and feet as I hurried to put as much distance between us as possible. My bare feet slapped the concrete ground, jarring my bones from my ankles to my jaw. Tears cold as ice ran down my face.

**_Run away, Jacky. Run away and into what happened all those years ago… _**

Fear radiated off of me, widening my eyes to where I could see almost completely around me. Afraid for what would happen if I was caught by Bunny. But then, something unexpected happened… A car drove by.

Cars drive by all the time, sure, but this one… it stuck out because the lights only flashed on when it turned the corner and caught sight of me. Then, a familiar jeering face leaned out the driver's window, the car slowed down and I stopped in my tracks.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he called out, finally stopping right beside me. I could hear the engine stutter off, and saw the car doors open, saw all four of the top jocks at my school step out, slam the doors behind them and walk forward. I felt my heart pound, smelled the alcohol on their breath. My heart was telling me to run, run away now; I knew what was coming… But my mind told me no.

**_This is what you deserve. You can feel it, can't you? _**

I shivered, an action not gone unnoticed by them.

"The little whore knows what's coming, don't you?" sneered the quarterback, Jake. He looked down my body, trailing his eyes lazily and slowly over my torso, and down before coming back up to settle on my eyes. I shivered once more, finally realizing how naked and vulnerable I was. I crossed my arms over my chest, but they seemed to take it as an opening to pounce.

"What'cha covering up for?" one called. Someone beside him cat-called and Jake lunged.

I was caught off guard, tackled almost to the ground, then lifted and thrown over his shoulder. "Let's take him for a ride, boys!" Laughs and jeers followed, along with hooting as I was shoved inside his car, squished in between two tacklers. The car sped off, passing Bunny as he ran down the street. It was so sudden; I hardly had time to pray for him to look before we were off…

I almost cried at the injustice brought upon me by myself.

* * *

We drove around for such a long time, it seemed hours where it was only minutes. Finally, Jake turned into the mall's abandoned parking lot, parking diagonally across five parking spaces with his black SUV, with its tinted windows and empty trunk… _Oh, God, no one's going to find me. _The realization hit me hard in the gut. Like a sack of rocks. I felt a drowning sensation and began to choke on my own tears. Jake turned around in his seat and smirked.

"If you're gonna choke, I'll give you something to gag on," he laughed, cruelly, and I tried to climb out the back, their laughs following. "Alright, boys, I get first turn, hold him down for me." I'd crawled into the trunk, and when I turned around, there he was, leering above me. I trembled.

"P-please, don't…"

"I love it when they beg."

And I screamed.

* * *

The first thing I became aware of was the smell of antiseptic and wool. Light shined behind my eyelids and I dreaded to open them. I couldn't remember where I was, and then, it hit me. The SUV, the trunk, running away, the argument with Bunny.

_Bunny!_

My eyes shot open before retreating back into the darkness they were once enveloped in. A muffled sound came from my left, repeated once more.

"Jack…" I carefully cracked my eyes this time, edging them open bit by bit before finally opening completely. A shape moved into my line of sight, fuzzy but finally sharpening into Bunny's form. When I saw him, I couldn't register anything but the happiness and misery his face brought forth in me.

Then, I took in the details. He'd been crying, severely. Crystal tears fell down red tear-stained tracks, his nose was slightly pink (probably from blowing his nose), and his eyes were glazed over with worry, with a small flame of anger.

"Bunny," I croaked out, before falling into a heap of sobs. I couldn't move my arms, and when I tried, something tugged at them. I looked down to see needles attached to my skin. A soft finger touched my chin and I jerked in surprise.

"Oh, Jack, Jack… look at what they've done to you… I swear, if I ever get my hands on those boys, I'll – I'll-" and then he himself cut off into a series of sobs and gasps. It was shocking, seeing someone so strong cry, and over me nonetheless…

**_Look at the misery you've caused! _**The sudden shock of pain brought with the voice was enough to send me back into the darkness.

* * *

Six months of pain. Of going through the motions, seeing those boys put in jail, going to therapy sessions. The first time I caught sight of myself in a mirror after being released from the hospital, I almost threw up. My eyes both had a yellow-black ting to them, my nose was swelling, the left side of my mouth puffing up, my ears looked almost torn… My body was even worse.

And I couldn't even walk right. The jocks were put away for six years on accounts of rape and abuse. And Bunny… he took it the hardest. Took to drinking more than usual, and he tried to be there for me, really he did. But I just couldn't trust anyone after that second time…

"Jack," he said one day, while he lay on the floor, I on the couch. It was raining outside and the house had a cool feeling to it. I didn't answer him, but he continued anyways. "Why didn't you tell me about the first time?" I lay still, not daring to even breathe.

He sighed, took a long drink of his liquor, and spoke again in a raspier voice. "The doctors said there hadn't been much tearing, but there were… scars," he choked up, "from before. Dammit, Jack, why didn't-" No longer able to bear it, I jumped up and ran out of the room, followed by his sobbing.

* * *

By next Christmas Eve, things weren't much better. I stopped trying to let people in, stopped trying to recover. It wasn't working anyways; the Voice was so strong inside my head. Bunny still drank, but it did little to help with his grief over me.

The time was 11:50 p.m., I sat naked in the tub, warm water embracing my body, blurring my scars and bruises. Even if I had recovered, I would always have these scars, physically and mentally, to remind me. And I couldn't live with that all my own. Maybe if I had someone who loved me… but there was  
no one… And then, I laughed. _But there is someone, Jack… There is if you'd just let him in._

-two days ago-

Bunny hadn't had a drink for six days. The Voice hadn't shown up for the past three. It was a good day, with Christmas three days away. While Bunny was out taking his end of course exam for his final collage class, I was at home, actually trying to cook dinner. I was making a lemon zest chicken, with potatoes and salad. It was hard, but I wanted Bunny to come home, exhausted only to smell my wonderful cooking and see the table set out with cream white cloth, candlelight, pristine plates and one of two of his presents set out on his plate.

And that's exactly how it happened. "Well, mate, ain't this a lovely surprise. Thank you," he hugged me, tightly, and for a few brief seconds I smelled his warm cologne, felt his sleek muscles beneath his shirt… and for the first time in years, I did not feel fear.

But with all great things, they must end before we are ready for them to. He released me and we sat down to a wonderful meal, where I told him he could not open his present until we were done. After plenty of praise and blushing, the table was finally cleared.

"Now, do I have your permission to open your gift?" I lightly laughed, the first time in months, and a sweetly graceful feeling overwhelmed me.

"Yes, Bunny, you have my permission." He was staring at me in such concentration I squirmed. "Well?"

"I-I don't know, mate. I think that was a pretty good gift you gave me just now." We looked at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat. "But seeing as how you went through the trouble of getting this for me…"

"There's a part two, but you won't get that until Christmas," I warned, smiling lightly as he carefully unwrapped the gift.

"Is that so?" Then he gasped. "Jack… is this?" I nodded, blushing lightly as he pulled out the pastel and chalk kit from its box.

"I-I remember you saying how you wanted those, because of their colors and texture." There was a silence during which he glanced between me and the colors in a mixture of joy and fear. "D-do you like it?" He looked up at me, before gently placing the gift on the table, standing up and walking over to me. Softly, he grabbed my chin and led me into a standing position. All of my insecurities came forth then as my fear disappeared.

"Like it, Jack? Mate, I love it… but…" Here, the fear topped his eyes again.

"But?" I whispered, inadvertently leaning into his embrace.

Then, I felt a soft intake of breath as he braced himself.

"But not as much as I love you…" And then, he leaned down and kissed me. Once more, adrenaline raced through my system, and I felt every nuance of his kiss. The soft way his mouth moved along mine, tracing my lips and then his tongue, pressing along before I let it through to explore my mouth. And then, I kissed back, putting every ounce of pain, hurt and injustice I felt into it; and he just soaked it up, bearing the burden with me.

And I loved him for it.

Pulling back, he held me by my shoulders, looking deep in my eyes, searching with his clear green ones for something. _Please see what you're looking for, _I begged. But he didn't, I could see it in his eyes. There was something in my own I was missing, and I didn't know what it was. But he knew.

I shook my head, backing up as his hands fell from my shoulders. "Jack, wait-" but his hands didn't move from his sides, and I turned away, not looking back. Not once.

I was broken for the last time…

-present—

And now, here I lay, in the cooling tub, about to pay the piper for the life I did not deserve, and I still didn't know what it was I missed inside.

I'd left a note for him to find when he got home in an hour. It read:

_Bunny-  
I'm sorry for everything I've lead you to. Your drinking, your anger, your sadness and pain. All because I couldn't protect myself. I didn't tell you about the first time it happened because I was afraid you'd look at me in disgust and call me weak like all the others. I thought I could bear my burdens alone, until it killed me. I was wrong about the first part, but the second part came true. This was not your fault but for one part… What was it I missed? When you looked at me that night, you didn't see something, and I wonder; what was so damn terrible about me that I couldn't have your love? I was going to give you myself on Christmas; that was part two to your present. But then I realized; who'd want such a broken, twisted present like that? I think I've always loved you, but now I'm not sure anymore. I do know one thing more than anything else, though… I'm sorry._

I smiled, and sank into the tub until the water submerged me completely. Opening my eyes, I saw the most beautiful sight; the light of the moon shining through the window up high, once again the only light in this room of darkness. And it lit up the water like a moonstone. I felt bathed in tranquility as the air escaped me little by little. I don't know why I was trying to wane out my demise, but something kept me from dying right then and there… But all that is golden cannot last forever.

* * *

Lights. Red, blue, white. They flash against my vision like fireworks. I'm cold, but something scratchy envelopes me. _Is this Heaven? _And then, a voice.

"Jack, don't you dare give out on me. Jack!" I slipped out of consciousness, only to "awake" inside an ambulance, if the sirens gave any signal to that.

"Jack, I'm not giving up on you." It was Bunny, I knew that, which meant I wasn't dead yet. I closed my eyes, ready more than anything to give up, but then, his next words stilled my mind. He leaned in and whispered, so lovingly: "You were missing life, Jack. Life that I'm prepared to bring back into you, if only you'll let me."

_If you only let him, he can save you. He will carry the burdens with you, save you, heal you… _

I had only to stop breathing, to not inhale once more and I would die. No more pain. No more misery or anger, no more insecurities or cruelty and abuse…

And no more Bunny. No more kisses or hugs. I wouldn't experience a morning waking up in his arms warmed by the sun, or have the pleasure of feeling soft linen sheets upon my body he'd loved the night before. I wouldn't have another sunny walk, or warm snowy day spent cuddled in his arms.

And I realized… I would lose more than I could ever gain by Death.

I inhaled and whispered back: "Merry Christmas…"

* * *

_Before you say that that seemed a little cruel to end it that way, remember: Jack's second gift to Bunny was going to be himself, but he planned on killing himself because he felt that that would be a terrible gift to give to someone he loves. So by saying, Merry Christmas, he gives Bunny himself. From there you can figure it out –smile- . For those of you who got it without having to read this, sorry for the waste of time! So, this just flowed right out, didn't it? Again, did not take the route I was expecting, but it DID reach the destination I had in mind. Comments?_


	2. Chapter 2

**I am also taking requests! Check out my profile for more information!**

I received a request from **_karasu99, _**and decided "challenge accepted". I hope I did well in here, and thanks for the idea! Please listen to the song listed below~~~ Oh, and if you enjoyed the original chapter and don't feel the need to read Bunny's POV because of whatever reason, I shan't be offended!

_If you gain anything from this than let it be a song. I based much of Bunny's part listening to this song: watch?v=-_K7GCrYHMI If you'd like to feel the mood more, I suggest listening to this song as you read the story. In fact, PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS SONG AS YOU READ!_

_Oh my gosh, am I really about to let you read this? … Yes, yes I am. I really don't think this turned out as good as the previous chapter, but I hope you'll look past the poor quality and see what I was trying to capture here… IF it has a weird tone to it, I was watching assassin's creed, so the dialogue type in the game may have wormed its way in there somehow… Anyways, enjoy the requested chapter!_

* * *

It was a constant battle with Jack, whether it was trying to get him to do his homework, talking to him, or trying to get him to take his depression pills. Always. More than once I received the following sentence in response:_ 'Oh, hey, Jack's having some problems. Must be the hormones. Let's go talk to him, maybe pump him up with some pills. That'll fix him!"_

Yeah, it's just the hormones I told myself… no biggie.

He stopped taking the pills by the age of sixteen. Nothing else changed, though. Still hated doing his homework, still didn't want to talk, but that's how all teens are, right?

And then, I got the call from his principal, and my world was thrown into a whole other perspective.

* * *

_Easter,1999: 13 years ago _

_"Oh, Bradley! Long time no see!" I jerked my head up in surprise, almost tipping over the globe I had been looking at. _

_"Oh, Mrs. Frost! How are you?" I felt an easy smile come to my face. There was a box in her hands and I offered to take it._

_"You act like a twenty year old man instead of a fifteen year old teenager, Bradley. So much more helpful than Jack's father," she sighed, teasingly rolling her eyes at the man behind the store's counter. _

_"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were calling me a lazy fool, Janice!" _

_"Maybe I am."_

_"Well, you better take that back."_

_"Or what?"_

_"Or this!" By the time their laughter and happy screams reached me, the door to the storage room was closing behind me. I shook my head, smiling. _Such a happy couple… I didn't think love like that could exist.

_Setting down the merchandise, I turned to go when suddenly, I felt two little arms wrap around my legs._

_"What the-" The accent I tried so hard to hide crept out, and I looked down to see a small, bright face peek out at me._

_"Jack!" I half laughed. _

_"Bunny! Bunny! Guess what, guess what?" I couldn't help it; the name he called me was too cute. _

_"Jack, it's Bradley, not Bunny!" But we both knew I had grown attached to the nickname. "What is it you want, you little mite?" He tugged on my pants, trying to pull me toward the back of the room._

_"Come on, I'll show you!" As I followed him, I took in how much he had changed over the years. One moment, he was wrapped in a bundle of white cloth, so dependent on the world, and the next he's up and walking, his exquisite eyes staring in wonder at the world around him. He was short; five years old and his head barely coming to rest at my hips. His skin pale, but not translucent; smooth like his mothers. He had his father's feathery brown hair and his eyes…_

_The same earth brown eyes staring up at me now, so innocent and clear. _

_"Well?" he asked impatiently. "What do you think?" As I bent down to his level, his grip switched from my pant leg to my shoulder, and I looked at the eye hole he'd pointed out. I glanced a few more times between the two before, exasperated by my antics, he sighed. "You have to look _through it, _Bunny!"_

_"Oh, right, right, I knew that," my un-accented voice came back and I leaned forward. The hole was big enough for me to see through clearly, and God… what a sight. _

_Their two story shop was in the middle of town, further away from the forest than they'd wanted, but closer to town center where, in winter, great snowball fights and sledding took place. They could also hop on the tram to go skiing at any point. From the front of the store, you could see the rest of town, city hall, the church and most of the highway… But this view Jack had found, this wonderful Rabbit hole had a view all its own. _

_A couple of small houses with snow sparkled under the evening sun, and almost right behind them was the edge of the forest, gleaming in all its jade-brown beauty. But it was the sky seen most of all that caught my attention. It was the sky of Australia, periwinkle blue with dark azure undertones. The sun a white hot orb with tendrils of fire orange and red outlining its rays._

_"What a beauty," I murmured. Feeling a tug, I ripped my gaze away and turned to Jack._

_"Doesn't it make you feel like flying?" _

_"Not a bit," I blanched a little, my aerophobia swelling up. "But it does make me glad to live just a little longer, mate." I was torn between wanting to get up and wanting to look back, when Jack spoke once more._

_"Why do you cover up your voice?" I jerked in surprise. _

_"My voice?"_

_"Yeah, one second you're talking like this," he demonstrated a poor Australian accent for me, "and the next, you're talking like me! It gets confusing."_

_"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"_

_"Well, I think you should just keep to your original voice, it sounds more like you," he stated in the way that all five year olds believe their opinions are final say. _

_"Huhn…" But before I could get another word out, he was off, arms out, flying. _

_"Come catch me Bunny!" He called back. Smiling, I turned back to the hole, catching another view of the sky before sighing and standing up._

_"Ai'ght you little bugger, you better hide real good!" _He's right, the accent is more me.

_I was halfway down the stairs when I heard a scream. Not like the ones that followed me up. No, this was a scream laced with terror and shock. I practically jumped down the rest of the steps, racing to the front door when I saw it ajar with nobody inside. _

_"Mrs. Frost?!" I shouted, looking down the sidewalk both ways before into the street… where two bodies lay sprawled. _Oh God, it was only a second! I looked away for a second and he- _But it wasn't Jack. Jack wasn't in sight, but his parents were. Oh, Jesus, they were _there._ Drowning in blood, jerking. I didn't bother looking around me as I rushed to their sides. _

_Mrs. Frost was gone; she'd been hit right in the side of the skull at such an angle to cause instantaneous death. But her husband was not. And it scared me how two happy, laughing people had become… this. It scared me so much I would've gotten up and ran had his hand not grasped my arm in a last bought of strength. Gasping, he muttered two words, before sighing that final sigh, his eyes stuttering close. _

_"Protect him…" And there was no doubt in my mind who "him" was. Looking up, I saw paramedics, cops, the truck driver who'd hit them, and crowds of people. They would be taken care of, but now I had to find Jack. _

_Instinctively, I knew he was no longer in the area. That he had disappeared. Staggering to my feet, I half ran, half stumbled out of the street and into the shop, not answering questions thrown at me, and slammed shut the door behind me. My mind wasn't working right, and everything seemed to be pulsating. I could feel a dampness on my clothes and hands which I chose to ignore. I could only think of one thing: Jack. Over and over again, my jumbled mind repeated his name over and over. It was probably the only thing keeping me sane at that point._

_I barely kept from crashing into the shelves as I reached the back door and sprang through. Tripping over my own feet, I caught my balance on the opposite wall of another building, before leaning over and throwing up. _

_When I was through, quiet sobs reached my ears and I turned around. "Jack?" I called out hoarsely._

_"I-It w-w-was an ac-accident!" _

_"Jack? Jack!?" I fell to my knees and crawled toward a hole in the wall of his parent's store I hadn't even noticed before. "Jack, come out here, please?"_

_"It was-wasn't m-m-my fault! I didn't mean to! Please, it- it was an accident," he cried, and I reached in, grasping his arm. Despite his shocked gasp, I yanked him out and into my chest._

_"Shut up boy, shut up!" Eventually he was just sniffing, but his tears still flowed. _

_"Bunny, I'm scared." I began to rock him back and forth, rubbing his back._

_"I know, Jack, I know…"_

_Later, I would find out what had happened that fateful day. Jack had run out into the empty street, still flying. His parents had called him in, but he was deaf to their calls, wrapped up in who knows what? They couldn't see the truck that sped down the street; but they heard the horn. _

_What parent wouldn't react to that fateful call of death? His parents, blinded by their love, ran to protect their only son; his mother was hit first, and then his father, who pushed Jack out of the street, trying to protect Mrs. Frost. We buried them on the hill in the cemetery by Jack's younger sister who died just three years ago._

_It was a family shrouded in misery and death; doomed only for the worst of endings. I wasn't about to let that happen with Jack. Not if I could help it. _

_And in the end, I became his guardian. The store was sold, the money set away for Jack's future. I myself received some money from their wills. They wanted me to go out and take the art courses my own parents shunned me for. Wanted me to follow my dreams. And just like that, they became my own late, adoptive parents. _

_And my love for Jack began me on a course not worth returning from._

* * *

It had been thirteen years since that fateful day. Jack visited a therapist and began taking the pills to help fight off the feelings of depression and guilt. What kind of fool was I to think that a couple pills a day would fix this world for him? At first, he fought it. He blamed himself needlessly, but eventually, I believed him to believe me, and stopped the sessions, stopped the medicine.

And he pretended to get better.

Until the call. Then I knew… I had been lying to myself to spare the guilt I suffered. What if I'd chased after him than after the past that day? Looking at the sky had only led to useless nostalgia, and my negligence led to misery for the one boy I cared for more than myself.

I was waiting for him to return home, reminiscing and finishing a college paper. Next year would be my last year in the Art and Music Academy. I had taken up Mr. and Mrs. Frost's final request and followed my dream; but all of my art lacked one thing. The sky. My teachers and classmates found it alluring, taking it as a symbol for something deep and hidden. Or maybe as the fact that no boundaries held us.

In truth? I just couldn't draw a sky without remembering this rut I'd stuck us in.

Eventually, the door opened and I heard my name being called. I was still thinking about the call though, and my voice came off as absentminded. However, hearing the sharp tone brought me back and I couldn't help the little annoyed flicker overcome me.

"You have a _reason _for using that tone with me?" As I waited, I saw him look me over, contemplating as I did him. He had grown taller, but was still shorter than me by a long shot. Still pale, still brown eyed, still lanky. But his eyes were no longer clear and free, but held burdens I only wish he'd share.

Eventually, he just dismissed the whole thing, but I knew better. I called after him, only to be ignored and hear the door slam shut. Pushing my chair away from the desk, I stood and hurried after him.

"Jack?" I grabbed onto the doorknob and twisted, jangling it even though it was locked. I heard him muttering to himself and frowned. "Jack, who are you talking to?"

"Shut up," came the response, and I widened my eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Go away, Bunny! I don't need to talk to you anymore!"

"Jack, we need to talk. I got a call from your principal earlier today. I know what's been happening at school." A tense silence; where I was promptly told to shut up and leave. _Dammit, Jack, _I thought, hurrying back to the kitchen for the skeleton key. _Why do I have to rely on second hand sources to figure out what's wrong with you and going on in your life? I should have been talking to you and caring for you in the first place. I'm your Guardian, for Christ's sake! But… is that all I am? Am I only bound by a title and the trust of your parents? _When I returned, all was silent on the other side of the door.

"Jack, I-" but stopped, seeing the empty room, the clothes on the floor. Suspicion ran through me, and I turned toward the closet before hearing a shuffle behind me. I turned, freezing at the sight before me.

I had a vague suspicion when I got the call that all was not as well as I'd hoped, but this… was too much. I reached down, half dragging, half pulling Jack out from under the bed he'd hidden under.

"Hold still, hold still! Dammit, Jack…" In the light of the moon, I got a better look than I ever wanted. They weren't just scars… they were words. _Trash, orphan, disappointment, whore._ The last word didn't seem right, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. "Oh, God… Jack… what have I done?"

"N-not you… me." And then he kicked me, sending me to the ground in surprise. I called after him, but he was already gone. I jumped to my feet and wasted no time chasing after him. _Oh, God it's happening all over again._

By the time I reached the bottom of our apartment he was turning a corner at the end of the street. Blood rushed through my head. He wasn't five years old anymore, but he was half naked and vulnerable. It was a Friday night, people were on the prowl. And already, I could feel my gut clenching at the thought of anything happening to him.

Half-way down the block, a car raced by, and inside the backseat, I saw him. At first, I felt a calm feeling: he's with friends. Then I realized the cold, hard truth: Jack doesn't have friends.

I barely had time to memorize the license plate before it was gone.

"You sons of bitches, I'll find you," and I raced home to call law enforcement.

* * *

My anger was tangible when the police and I arrived at the parking lot. It had taken them thirty minutes to track the car, far too long in my opinion. And Jack…

If there hadn't been a police officer there to hold me back, I would have _murdered _the pieces of trash.

They'd beaten him, almost beyond recognition, and his only piece of clothing… w-was… I can't even think of it here, in this place of healing: the hospital. I wasn't even allowed in the room until the nurses were done hooking him up to the systems.

Last night had been a long night. I hadn't even been able to cradle him in my arms before he was torn away and brought to the ER. I stayed there for perhaps three hours, giving statements and descriptions. And now here I sat, drinking a coffee in rumpled clothes with an, I'm sure, haggard look.

"Excuse me, but are you Jack's father?" I looked up to the man in white, realizing he was a doctor.

"No, guardian. How is- what- will he be-?" Question after question poured forth from me, cutting each other off in their desperation to be answered. He put a hand on my shoulder and sat down next to me.

"How long have you been his guardian, Mr…"

"Bun- Bradley, just Bradley. Ever since the mite was five years old. Lost his parents in an accident… I know all his medical history, if that's what you mean, doc."

He gave me a look I couldn't decipher before looking down at the clipboard in his hands. "Well, Bradley, this clipboard tells me that maybe you don't." I looked at him in anger.

"Just what are you implying mate?"

He sighed, setting the clipboard down, having already memorized the (un)bearable news on it. Then, he turned to me, and spoke in a low tone. "Son…this isn't the first time Jack has been… assaulted."

I felt my heart stop.

* * *

Today was the first day Jack could come home, and he seems intent on not looking into any reflective surface. He doesn't even want to eat, so he's just lying there on the couch, unmoving. If it hadn't been for his breaths, I would be worried. I find my way into the kitchen where a bottle of Jack Daniels waits. Years ago, I swore off all alcohol.

It only takes me ten seconds to decide what I want more (sobriety or understanding), and even less to pour a drink for myself. One hand on the counter, leaning, I swallow it in one go and cough harshly, reaching to pour more.

By the time dinner has come and gone, I'm drunk and he's sleeping, still beaten and sore. I walk out, slightly swaying under the alcohol's influence and stand over Jack, just watching him.

And then I turn and stumble toward my room… but stop, hand on doorknob. Jack's door was still torn open, no one having been inside the house since that day so many weeks ago. I knew what I had to do, what needed to be done… but I was afraid of what I'd find.

His room was cold, bereft of anything that would truly make it homey. _When did we drift so far apart? _My search was narrowed down when I caught sight of a notebook on the floor. _This must be from when I pulled Jack out from under the bed._ I didn't dwell on the thought, but in the end, knew I would be forced to face my mistakes.

It was a plain white journal, bound along the edges instead of ringed… And as I flipped through it, I realized it was not a diary or journal… It was a memoir. And it was filled up half-way. And I knew… this was what I'd been looking for. This was what the doctor had told me about. I didn't want to face it, oh God no… but because of me, Jack had gone through it a second time… and I was going to understand no matter how harsh it was.

As I read, I recoiled in disgust and anger. Many times did I have to stop to keep myself from crying. Not disgust at Jack, but that any human would be sick enough to do such things to a young boy… And it happened just two years ago… How could I have not known? But, then I realized, two years ago I was taking extra classes, things were hectic getting settled in the apartment… I hadn't had time to keep much track of Jack through the days, and it was common for one of us to be gone at ungodly hours of the night to use the bathroom across the street at the market since our plumbing hadn't yet been installed.

I couldn't even imagine what he was going through at the time, unable to speak to me because I would brush him off, believing other things to be more important. In fact, I don't think we even had a conversation longer than one sentence during that time of chaos.

That's what the journal held: everything he wished to have told me. Written in his curled, soft written hand.

_So much has happened. I can't even feel shock or disgust over it; just this numb emotion pulsating throughout me. I wish Bunny wasn't so busy now-a-days… but he's doing his best to make us situated somewhere other than at some college dorm. In fact, he's done so much for me, the only one to blame for this thing that has happened is me. _

_It happened three nights ago, when I was walking home from school. I wanted to get home faster to help Bunny; he was saying yesterday how he was exhausted. I know he didn't mean anything by it, let alone that he'd said it aloud; it was muttered to himself, and I don't think he even knew I was there. _

_There's this alley three blocks from here that cuts across a couple of businesses, and I figured if I ran, I could get through it quickly. I've never really liked alleys, but now I know for sure I hate them… And this hand, it just reached out and grabbed me. I didn't even know what was happening until it did, and by then, there were two of them; a boy and a girl. Both at least as old as Bunny, maybe a bit older. The man had grayish skin and short, raven black hair. His eyes were sun yellow and his canines so sharp… The girl looked just like him only smaller and with frazzled features, and cold, cold eyes. _

_They laughed while they did it. Laughed and sneered at me. It was so... so horrible… By the time they left me with my ripped clothing and tears of shame it was nightfall…_

_Bunny didn't notice. When I came home, he was passed out on the couch, my dinner cold on the counter. _

_I kissed him goodnight before trying to wash off the filth that clung to me. _

_I couldn't… _

When I was done, I sank to the ground, and sobbed wretchedly. "If you had only told me, Jack. I would have cared… I do care…"

It was a long six months.

* * *

After a confrontation about the incidents, leaving both of us worse off, I threw myself into my studies, ignoring Jack as I did so long ago. I just didn't know what to do.

The therapy sessions weren't working anymore, even though he had graduated already, no longer surrounded by bullies. I told him, not really expecting an answer since he seemed like an autistic child nowadays - but he wasn't really a child; no longer innocent. Oh, how I wished to put that innocence back in him.

And I laid in bed, telling myself through his sobs in the next room over, that it was right. People outside of the family couldn't possibly understand the depth of our relationship, the depth of our anger and tragedy. His family seemed bound for bad ends. But, I told myself once more, I would not let that end come over Jack, and I was resolved as hell to do it.

Eventually, December rolled around, as it would sooner or later, and I am on and off the bottle. I've reminisced and guilt-tripped myself long enough. So, I confront Jack on one of his rare days out of his room, and sit him down.

And I tell him that I've read the journal in his room, that I can't keep that lie from him anymore. I see the anger in his eyes, and it thrills me to know he's still in there; the old Jack I knew before… this. I tell him to shut up and listen playfully, afraid the words were too harsh on his fragile mind, but he took it all in stride surprisingly.

"I don't care how cliché this seems, but hell, I think our world could use a little cliché! I want you to know about me, Jack. Let's get to know each other all over again, okay?" I registered his small nod of the head with joy. It was a long shot, I knew that, but I was counting on our age-old relationship to pull us through this.

And so, every day up until my finals we sat down at dinner and talked; well, more as in I talked and he just listened. I told him about my father, who believed that art was not worth putting my confidence in; who resisted me ever since I was ten and chose art class over football. "Though I still grew up to be pretty massive, huh?" I stared down at my hands, sighing. Then, I told of my traditional mother, how she fed us, cleaned the house, took care of me, but never expected much from her child. How she took her husband's anger and verbal abuse as well as physical abuse in stride. "And it was both of our burdens to bear: she didn't take my beatings, no matter how much I tried to take hers, I would, but she didn't seem to care." I had a tough life, but it was nothing compared to losing your parents so young.

"I suppose I never had parents _to _loose, anyways." There was a silence, the subject finally having been breached after so many years of silence. The next thing I knew, a small, delicate hand was wiping away tears I hadn't realized I'd cried.

"My parents cared for you as one of their own; and we lost them together," he said. He didn't smile or pat my shoulder, but I knew then, that he knew I cared.

And then, finals. Oh, those stupid things. The only highlight of my day was that I had a job offer at a company to draw posters, cd art, DVD art and movie posters. It wouldn't be much pay at first, but eventually I could work my way up to art director of movies and animation. I'd been taking computer art classes as well as animation and technology courses. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and excited. They'd liked my application and I had the job.

But soon, the smell of wonderfully cooked food penetrated my senses and drove away the fatigue. I wondered at first if maybe Jack had hired a maid, but that fear (more money, jeez) was soon put to rest at the sight of Jack's ruffled appearance, yet happy face with a small smile.

I even got to open a present, but only after dinner.

"Now, do I have your permission to open your gift?" At my request, he laughed, and it sounded like angels had sung in my ears.

"Yes, Bunny, you have my permission…Well?"

"I-I don't know, mate. I think that was a pretty good gift you gave me just now." We looked at each other for a few moments before I cleared my throat. "But seeing as how you went through the trouble of getting this for me…"

He looked at me expectantly and I half ripped, half slid the wrapping paper off, before staring in wonder at the gift. He remembered why I'd wanted it, and in the end had the audacity to ask if I liked it.

"Like it, Jack? Mate, I love it… but…" And here, I stood up, not fully realizing what I was doing until Jack was almost completely in my arms.

"But?"

I breathed in deeply before telling him my most cherished, well-kept secret.

"Not as much as I love you," and I kissed him, pressing lightly at first, before letting myself get lost in him. His lips soft as dough, sliding along my own in passion, and I took in all he pressed upon me, soaking it in like a dry sponge, wanting to share his pain so it was just a little easier on him to live. Words cannot undo words, but maybe actions can.

Then I pulled back, wanting to see his eyes, his soft earth brown eyes… But they were not the eyes I remembered. They missed the vitality once as much a part of him as my own creativity was of me. And he knew it. Just as I came to realize the missing piece, he saw that I didn't see what I wanted to. And I called to him as he backed away, but had not the strength to reach for him anymore.

The love and light were trying to shine through but was suffocated by fear and the broken edges of what was once his life. I did not know what it was I wanted anymore. And I spent the next two days trying to realize what was most important; Jack or living.

Eventually, I came to the realization that they were one and the same and I couldn't live without either. A selfish choice, but I would take it and create a new life for us with it.

* * *

I had to go in for another interview on Christmas Eve, and told Jack I wouldn't be home for about three hours. He looked a little distracted, but waved me off to show he'd heard.

The interview lasted only two hours and I got home early, having bought some champagne to celebrate. No matter what, I was determined to make this a day never to forget. Maybe he would even give me the second part to my gift early this year.

"Jack! I'm home!" I called out, shutting the door behind me. I threw my bag on the couch, set the bottle on the counter and tossed my jacket in a corner somewhere. "Jack, I've got great news I can't wait to tell you mate!" I set to clearing off the table, but there was nothing on it but a folded up note. The complete opposite image from when I left. "Jack?" And this time, it wasn't a call, it was a whisper.

I grabbed the note and unfolded it, dread settling in my stomach.

When I was done reading it, tears blurred my vision. I stumbled to his room first, but on finding it empty, rushed to the bathroom, and would have turned away but for the small glug I heard.

As I succumbed to agony's clutches, plunging toward Jack to keep him from throwing away his parent's sacrifice, to keep him from their own fate, I knew, in that moment, I was no longer looking back on the past, but desperately chasing the future.

* * *

_I feel as though I've almost destroyed Bunny's image. I tried to make him seem like an unassuming, yet caring fella. Maybe I got that across, maybe not. Once again, I feel more comfortable writing angst, but sometimes I'll get carried away and make it so "sad" that it is hard to believe. I hope that was not the case here. _

_Also, I'd like to state that I want to practice my writing more. It's still in the beginning stages, I have a tendency to downsize myself, and I get pretty lazy about something if I don't have a motivator. "Alone" and "Voices" seems like all of my pent up anger, own misery, stress and disappointment was poured forth into creating these pieces of… art? I can go on and on about all of my failures, own disappointments and stupid writing habits, but I shan't. Anywho, be sure to tell me your thoughts by typing up a quick review and posting it. Harsh critic or loving critic, I can handle it. I have a long way to go and want all the help I can get. Once more, North will be sending elves with cookies to your houses soon, be sure to hide the food!_


End file.
